


The Other Side

by cazflibs



Series: The Ace Chronicles: Slash! [13]
Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 06:05:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14688033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazflibs/pseuds/cazflibs
Summary: So why does Lister prefer to sleep on the inside of the bed?A follow-up fic to ‘Nocturnal Habits’.





	The Other Side

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Nocturnal Habits](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11848899) by [cazflibs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazflibs/pseuds/cazflibs). 



Rimmer frowned curiously as the shorter man clambered over him to settle in his usual spot by the wall. “Are you sure you’re okay with it?”

Rearranging the pillows, Lister glanced back to him briefly. “With what?”

“Sleeping on the inside,” Rimmer elaborated. “Doesn’t it bother you, getting squished up against the wall?”

Lister shrugged. “It’s only a bugger when I need to pee in the night. But other than that, I kinda prefer it actually.”

“Really?” Rimmer countered with a curl of the lip. “But why on Io would you _prefer_ to be squashed up to sleep?”

 

Settling on the pillow, Lister’s thoughts drifted off down Memory Lane. He’d only been six years old, but he could still remember climbing into bed with his dad when he couldn’t settle at night. With the single bed pushed up against the wall, he’d snuggle into the reassuring cradle of his father’s body, listening as he softly hummed Rasta Billy Skank songs whilst casting shadow puppets onto the peeling wallpaper to make him giggle. 

It may only have been a simple council flat on a dodgy estate, but in those special moments, he’d never felt so safe and warm. Even when his dad would swear about the heating being on the blink again.

Funny how your entire world could change in one short day. 

He’d been sat with his classmates at school, where Mr Hitchins had asked them all to draw a picture of their family. He’d snuck glances at the other pictures on his table where two sets of parents - Mummies and Daddies in various combinations - as well as numerous siblings filled their pages. But he hadn’t minded. He’d happily waited for the blue pencil so he could finish his loving portrait of the three of them - him, Dad, and Hannah the dog.

He’d nearly finished his creation when the Headmistress, Ms Timms, came to the door to whisper to his teacher. He could still remember the way they’d both then glanced across to him with a strange look in their eye. Mr Hitchins had quietly asked him to gather his things which was weird, as they were supposed to have P.E. next.

When he was escorted into the corridor, he’d immediately clocked his social worker, Emily, stood waiting for him. He’d quickly looked between the three of them before leaping to his own defence.

“I don’t care what Stanley Tonkiss says, I didn’t start it!” he’d protested. “He went for me first!”

“That’s...not why I’m here, David.” Emily’s voice had sounded all wobbly and gentle as she sank down to his height. “Would you like to come with me?”

“Are you comin’ to drink tea at our place again?” He’d held up his artwork, remembering how pleased he’d been with how neat the colouring looked. “I wanna show me Dad me drawin’ so he can stick it on the fridge.”

They’d all shared that look again that he didn’t understand at the time, then took him for a ride in a car that smelt all posh and nice.

Even after they’d explained it all to him, he still wasn’t quite sure what had happened. But they’d kept telling him that his dad was very happy and had gone to the same place as Goldie. ‘That’s nice,’ he’d thought to himself as he lay on the scratchy carpet of the children’s home, building his police station Lego set. At least he hadn’t gone far away.

But when the lights went out that first night in the shared dormitory, he’d found himself sniffling for his dad. He’d clutched onto ‘Frankie’, his cuddly cat from home, and breathed deeply from his fur to try and catch his dad’s reassuring smell in between hushed sobs.

He’d gasped, startled, as the springs suddenly sagged behind him. Glancing back over his shoulder, he’d been able to make out the shadowy outline of Dennis Beaman, a tough bruiser of a lad that he recognised from Year 3, who was quietly climbing into bed with him. He’d gripped Frankie tighter, frozen with fear. Dennis was the type you didn’t mess with. 

“S’okay. It gets easier,” Dennis had whispered gruffly, gesturing with a nod to the wall. “Shift over, will ya?”

With a burbling sniff, he’d wriggled closer to the wall to allow the taller boy to settle reassuringly behind him. 

“And don’t mention this to anyone at school, or I’ll punch your teeth out, yeah?” Dennis had warned before releasing a long tired exhale. “Jus’ get some sleep.”

Funny how he never had any problems in the playground after that.

And indeed, from that night on, young Dave had slept just as peacefully as he had done back at home. Whenever a nightmare wrenched him from his sleep, or a midnight toilet trip left him jumping at every shadow, the reassuring sounds of snores and long relaxed breaths that surrounded him would always be able to lull him back to sleep once more.

It was a reassurance that he carried with him for years. It didn’t matter how bad things got. Because at least he wasn’t alone.

Even during his brief stint living with his Nan, he’d been content to sleep on the blow-up mattress on the bedroom rug of her tiny bungalow. And when he’d left the children’s home at 18 to try and find work, he’d been happy to be squashed up in a shared council flat or squatting in an abandoned house on the derelict estate with three others to a bed. Because wherever he roamed, he was never alone.

Even when he found himself briefly homeless on Mimas, he’d curl up in the tiny luggage locker and sleep contentedly. To be cramped was to be cradled, and it made him feel safe.

When he’d applied for the Red Dwarf sign-up, he’d been a little panicky that he’d have to spend the first night of his life sleeping in a dark room all by himself. So when the JMC Recruitment Officer on Mimas had explained to him apologetically that crewmembers would have to bunk in pairs, he’d leapt on this gratefully.

“It’s not a problem, no!” he’d insisted enthusiastically. At the woman’s strange glance, he’d forced out a chuckle. “I mean, it’s a small sacrifice to make for the benefits package, eh?”

The Officer had nodded politely before clearing her throat to scribble on his application form.

So what that his bunkmate turned out to be a complete and utter tosspot? At least he wasn’t alone…

...until of course, three million years later, he was more alone than he feared it was ever possible to be.

But throughout their years stranded in deep space, despite the way that Rimmer drove him absolutely bonkers and pushed him to the very brink of his sanity, he continued to bunk with him. Even through several bunkroom moves - from the Technician’s digs to the Officer’s quarters and a couple of others in between - he’d clung to the hologram’s nocturnal companionship like a lifeline.

After all, this was his comfort. His mainstay. The constant around which his life continued to revolve. Because, just as it had always been, it didn’t matter how bad things got. He could always fall asleep every night safe in the knowledge that he wasn’t completely alone.

 

“Hello?” 

The Scouser blinked back to reality and Rimmer’s expectant stare. “Hmm?”

The hologram huffed impatiently. “I said, ‘Why do you prefer the inside anyway?’ Surely it bugs you, getting all squashed up?”

Lister opened his mouth to answer, but found that it hovered open uncertain for a moment. Eventually it closed again and he simply shrugged. “Just a preference, I s’pose,” he surmised with a smile.


End file.
